Loving You
by bpersinger
Summary: One shot of our favorite boys... Thomas/Newt pairing. Just a plot I couldn't get out of my head. Thanks for reading!


" _You shouldn't run today…" Newt said, giving his boyfriend a look of concern as he stumbled about. He was packing, small things here and there, just like he did every time he ran since he was first trapped in the Maze overnight. Tommy was determined to be better prepared, even if it meant slowing himself down in the long run._

" _I told you, I'm fine. I feel perfectly fine!" He insisted, carefully rolling up Newt's thin blanket and strapping it to his pack. It was his comfort, out there in his own personal hell… Newt scoffed, gently pushing the brunet on the bed. A faint wince graced Thomas' features for a split second. If it had been anyone else, the action would have gone completely unnoticed. Newt knelt down in front of him, pushing his bangs out of his face, weary of the goose-egg sized knot on Thomas' forehead. He could tell his boyfriend was trying his hardest to keep up his poker face, but could easily see through his defences._

" _Why are you being so bloody stubborn?" Newt asked, his voice betraying him when trying to feign anger. He loved his Tommy. He couldn't be mad at him, even when he was being a slinthead. A very stubborn one at that._

" _I can't skip running today. Minho will kill me! We haven't had a good run together since…" He trailed off, his big brown eyes downcast. Newt cocked his head at this, obviously lost as to what his boyfriend was referring to._

" _Since what, Tommy?" He finally demanded to know. The other boy remained quiet for a minute, and Newt waited patiently. He knew not to push too much, too fast. Tommy appeared to the rest of the Gladers as fearless, but Newt saw under the facade. Thomas was just as lost and damaged as the rest of the lot, but he was just better at bottling his feelings up._

" _Since we got together." He finished quietly. He glanced up nervously as he awaiting Newt's reaction. What he got was definitely not one he was expecting. He seemed to let Thomas' words sink in for a second, before he exploded._

" _And how is this my fault?! How does everything that goes wrong in this bloody camp always get turned back at me?! All I have done in this relationship is try and make sure you don't go off and kill yourself in that bloody maze, and this is how you thank me? You know what, Thomas? Do whatever you want from now on! I don't care." Newt spat each word with surprising malice, storming out of their hut before Thomas could even process what had happened…_

"He hates me. I screwed everything up, Minho! I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have said anything." Thomas said, leaning heavily against a wall. They were in the outskirts of the maze, finally pausing to rest for a moment. Being one of his closest friends, Minho could almost instantly tell something was up with Thomas. Their normal banter was replaced with complete radio silence as they ran. He waited until they were halfway through the run before he made the younger boy talk.

"Newt could never hate you, you slinthead. He loves you! It's disgustingly obvious." Minho muttered with a sly smile. Thomas shot him a glare, still attempting to catch his breath.

"He didn't even say goodbye, Min… He always says goodbye. Just in case. And this time, he couldn't even look at me." Thomas slid down the wall, burying his head in his hands. The older boy sighed, and plopped down next to his friend.

"He just needs some time to cool off. You'll see, everything will be completely back to normal by tomorrow." Minho said, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulders. The two sat there talking for a little while longer before finally starting there way back. They had been running for maybe ten minutes when Thomas had to stop to be sick. He was clutching his head, swaying dangerously on his feet. Minho forced him down to the ground, knowing that there was no way they were going to make it back to the Glade before the doors closed.

"Pass me the shovel, you bloody shank. I'll do it myself." Newt growled at the young Glader in front of him. The boy gave a frightful squeak before doing what he was told, and scurrying out of the second-in-command's way. The sun was starting to set, and the temperature had already dropped a great deal. Newt wrapped his coat closer around his slim frame before plunging the shovel deep into the soil, and finishing the small trench leading away from the garden. He felt an ache in his ankle earlier in the day, meaning there was a storm brewing and it would be here soon.

"Newt! The runners aren't back yet!" He heard a voice yell to him. The boy froze in his tracks, every ounce of anger toward his boyfriend now replaced with worry and concern. He tried to force himself to remain calm as he thrust the shovel back into the younger boy's hands with instructions to not 'bloody wreck his hard work,' and began the trek toward the Maze's opening where a small group was already forming. He took his rightful place next to Alby, his arms crossed over his chest as he peered into the Maze.

"How long do they have?" He asked, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. Alby shook his head slowly.

"Maybe an hour. Give or take…" He trailed off, eyeing the Brit cautiously. He put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort his friend in any way he could.

"They'll make it." Newt said, not taking his eyes off of the Maze entrance. He stayed like that for thirty more minutes before he really started to panic.

"They can't stay in the Maze tonight. There's about to be a bloody hurricane rolling through here! And it's freezing! They'll never last…" Newt insisted, pleading with Alby to send someone to find his two best friends.

"You know I can't do that. What if I send another group and they don't make it back either? We can't afford to lose anybody else." This really struck a nerve with his second.

"AND WE CAN AFFORD TO LOSE MINHO AND THOMAS?!" Newt raged, tugging at his hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Newt. But there is nothing that I can do for them." Newt shrugged him off, muttering obscenities under his breath at his leader, and praying silently that somehow, someway, Tommy would pull off another miracle. That he would survive another night trapped in the Maze.

"Come on, Thomas. We're almost there! Just a little farther, and we can rest." Minho pleaded with the younger boy who he was all but carrying. They were still at least twenty minutes away, and the doors were due to be closing around the same amount of time. Thomas was panting heavily, his eyes squeezed shut in pain, and fully relying on his partner to guide him through. They took another left turn when the first Griever let out it's battle-cry, alerting the boys that they were no longer alone. To top things off, it had begun to rain. Both boys were shivering fiercely in their light running attire.

"You have to be strong, Thomas! You have to run faster." Minho urged, picking up the pace. He had resorted to basically dragging Tommy along. They came upon another right turn when the first Griever made it's grand appearance. Minho let out a little shriek, shoving Thomas in the opposite direction and screaming at him to flee. The beast took two bounds toward its prey, and swung its stinger into Minho's side, throwing him against the metal corridor with a sickening thud. Thomas stumbled blindly for a few more steps, feeling the Griever's presence close behind him. He ran as fast as his body would allow him, but it still wasn't enough. The monster caught him quickly, throwing his battered body to the ground. He looked up at the mechanical beast, adrenaline coursing through his veins and pure hate fueling the fire, and he got back up and ran. He ran faster than he ever had before, leading the Griever as far away from Minho as he could. He slipped and slid through the pooling water at his feet, trying to form some sort of plan in his pounding head.

"You have to be faster than that!" He taunted, ducking the deadly stinger while leading his pursuer in the direction of an archway that was already beginning to close. _Finally, some good luck,_ Thomas thought bitterly. He dove through at the last second, smiling as he heard the Griever being pulverized close behind him. It was music to his ears. Now he just had to find Minho, and get the hell out of this maze. Oh, and face his fuming boyfriend at the end of all this. He could hear Newt in his ear already, proclaiming that he was always right. The thought almost brought tears to his eyes. He could handle Newt being mad, or smug, or whatever. Just as long as he got to see him again… That was all that mattered at this point. Another roar cut through Thomas' thoughts, wiping the smile off of his face in a matter of seconds. _This isn't going to be as easy as the first time around..._

"Did you hear that? It sounded like Minho!" One of the Gladers yelled. Every single member of the camp was huddled around the Maze entrance, waiting with baited breath for their runners to appear, when a scream pierced the silence. It was then followed by the unforgettable roar of a Griever, and every boy's blood ran cold. At this point, the rain had picked up, and was pounding down mercilessly on the small group.

"They're close! They're so close, Alby! You have to let someone go in and help them!" Newt begged. Alby just closed his eyes, trying to ignore his friend's pleas. He really hated being the leader sometimes. The sound of metal being crushed filled the camp, and cheers rang out.

"Go Thomas!"

"He killed another Griever!"

"I think I see them!" Someone yelled. Sure enough, there was Thomas. He was limping heavily, one arm pulling something behind him and the other hanging unnaturally by his side. Blood was pouring out of a cut on his face, and he looked absolutely mad. Once the Glade came into view, his legs seemed to give out. Alby and Newt rushed forward along with a few other older boys to help pull their exhausted runner through. Newt dropped to Thomas' side, who was looking at Alby like he was some sort of hallucination.

"You made it. You're okay. We're going to get you all patched up, okay Tommy?" Alby said with a gentle voice. Thomas clutched at him, tears flooding his cheeks.

"Don't… Don't tell Newt… I'm fine. I'm okay. Don't want him to worry…" He mumbled, not registering that his boyfriend was at his side already. His eyes glazed over, and he promptly passed out. Newt caught him before he hit the ground, pulling him close. He looked at Alby, for once, at a loss for words.

"What the hell happened in that Maze?" Alby pondered aloud. The runners were carefully deposited into the med hut, and the Gladers set to work. Minho had broken a few ribs, and suffered a good knock on the head. About 75% of his body consisted of dark purple bruises, but he was alive and hadn't been stung. He was lucky.

"Newt. If you want to stay, you have to help. Stop the bleeding on his head." Alby muttered, attempting to do the same with a large laceration on Thomas' left leg. Newt followed orders, and grabbed the nearest rag and pressed it to his boyfriend's head. He couldn't help the tears leaking down his face as he watched Tommy lay there lifelessly.

"I have to set his shoulder now. We need more hands to hold him down." One of the med-jacks, Clint explained. His partner, Jeff took his place at Thomas' legs, and Alby braced the uninjured arm.

"On three… One, two, three!" There was a nasty crunching sound, and Thomas' eyes shot open. His mouth was open in a silent scream, and the boy gasped and shuddered violently. His gaze landed on Newt, who was at this point openly crying at the sight of his boyfriend in such a tremendous amount of pain. He took a deep, ragged breath, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could, and reached with his uninjured arm to grasp Newt's hand.

"'s'okay… Not that bad… Don't cry." He forced out between clenched teeth. Newt let out a hysterical laugh, lightly stroking Thomas' cheek. Thomas leaned into his touch, his eyes fluttering close once again.

"Let's wrap the shoulder, Jeff. How's the bleeding looking on his head, Newt?" Clint asked with his natural no-nonsense tone. Newt slowly lifted the bloody rag off of his unconscious boyfriend's head.

"It hasn't clotted yet. Is that bad?" He asked, replacing the old rag with a fresh one.

"It's normal with head wounds. It looks like it's pretty fresh, so it'll probably bleed for a while. How's the leg?" Alby exposed the wound and cringed. The cut was so deep. The bleeding had somewhat slowed, giving the med-jacks a chance to suture it up. By the end of it all, Thomas looked like he was about 85% gauze. Newt stayed by his side, cleaning the dirt and blood off of his face, and wondering how lucky one person could actually be. Counting the Griever he killed his first night in the Maze, Thomas had slain 3 of the beasts. It was an unthinkable feat, but he did it. A small groan pulled him from his thoughts. He was delighted to see a pair of gorgeous, yet confused brown eyes looking up at him.

"Newt?" He croaked, attempting to wriggle into a more comfortable position. He gasped at the degree of pain that was radiating through his entire body at the slight movement.

"Hey, you're okay. Everything's going to be fine now, Tommy. Just rest." He crooned, smoothing his hair down. Thomas shut his eyes with a grimace, trying to even out his breath.

"You aren't mad?" He asked after a long minute of silence. He was looking up at Newt with the saddest expression. One mixed with pain and exhaustion. It was like an arrow to the heart.

"No… I'm not mad. I'm just glad you're relatively okay. I don't know what I would have done if…" He trailed off, a fresh wave of tears leaking down his cheeks. Thomas lifted his hand up to wipe away his boyfriend's tears. His movements was jerky, causing his to overshoot and lightly slap Newt's cheek. The Brit let out a laugh, pressing his love's hand to his cheek, and looking down at him with a smile.

"That was quite graceful." He said with a chuckle. Some color rose to Thomas' cheeks in response.

"Made you laugh." He retorted with a cheeky grin. A warm feeling bubbled up in Newt, along with a surge of protectiveness toward this beautiful, maddening boy in the hospital bed.

"I love you so much, Tommy."


End file.
